Darling it's me
I listen to old WhatsApp voice notes you sent me.
.
Hi darling it’s me
they typically begin.
.
I’m running late.
Do we need anything from Sainsbury’s?
The kids nit shampoo is by the bath.
I’ve just woken up.
I slept all day.
That sounds good for Sunday.
Just finished at the hospital.
Any thoughts on dinner?
I’ve ordered the school trousers.
How did the match go?
.
I’m think I’m searching for something soft and sweet where you gently whisper your deep love for me and speak at length about how much I mean to you.
.
A salve to sooth this solitude.
.
I scroll and I scroll.
.
Where are the gardening gloves?
Give me a call when you can.
I’ll do school pick up today.
Have you seen my blue jumper?
My appointment’s been moved.
Just waiting to go in now.
.
I scroll.
.
Trying to get back far enough
to whatever came before the illness.
Scrolling
back in time.
.
What’s the Disney Plus password?
Your parcel has arrived.
The dog needs walking.
Shall we do a roast?
My acupuncture finishes at 3.
What’s the name of the plumber again?
.
There are hundreds and hundreds of these messages.
Thousands maybe.
.
They go on and on like this.
.
School
Dog
Dinner
Late
Remember
Can you
Where is
What time
How about
.
I scroll.
and scroll.
Minutes pass.
.
And I realise this is it.
.
This is all and everything there is and ever was or ever will be.
.
Reminders about shopping.
Updates on location.
Ideas for the weekend.
.
Tiny bits of information.
A constant spool of communication.
The thread holding the fabric of our life together, together.
.
Endless minute exchanges
like the most mundane dialogue
in the most boring play
you could write.
.
And it is
glorious.
.
I reach February 2020.
The month before your diagnosis.
And I stop.
.
I go no further.
.
Instead
I scroll back down to the bottom of the chain.
.
I see our most recent messages.
Then finally the last message I ever sent you.
On 24 March 2024.
Three days before you died.
.
It reads
I love you x
.
The ticks aren’t blue.
Previous > On Coping #31: Brave new world | Next > On Coping #33: Breaking through paper
On Coping is my story of surviving on the sidelines of cancer. It begins in 2022 with On Coping #1, written the day after my 41st birthday. The day my wife Imogen, the mother of my three children, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It’s the story of what happened next. Read from the start.